kids.

Somehow, at Casa de Fe, with nearly 60 children eating, sleeping, playing, and learning under one roof, one special child is always able to find you. And then you're a goner. You seriously consider adopting and/or putting one in your backpack, a stowaway into what you're sure would be a better life in the States. 

For Adrienne, it is Gilmar and, to some extent, his two brothers and one sister. The family of four is very close knit and absolutely gorgeous. Ana and Javier, the two older children, spend most of the day learning English at school. Gilmar (3 years) is still "suffering" from severe malnourishment--one can't really tell from looking at Gilmar that he hasn't had enough to eat...but his head of nearly blonde hair (Ana and Javier have nearly black hair) indicates that he is lacking in some proteins and nutrients. Alejandro is the baby, just starting to walk. Gilmar and his brothers and sister were brought to Casa de Fe when their oldest brother died. His death caused other family members to realize that their mother was incapable of taking care of any children.

For Eve and James, there is Fernando. The poor guy had an extremely high fever yesterday (unnoticed by the staff). I sat down next to him, felt my side burning up and realized Fernando didn't look well at all. We got him some medication and he fell asleep for a few minutes on the floor. But then, he climbed up on James and sat. Just as if it was the most natural thing in the world to do. Picture a towering gringo and this tiny child, sitting, watching the TV, completely at peace. Eve was done for at this point, talking to Fernando, holding him, being his mommy for the day. 

And for me, two kids. Twins. Well, triplets really, but one of the brothers lives with a distant aunt. Josue and Nathaniel are just about one year old, walk, but don't talk. They smile easily. When I walk in the house, I'm surrounded by children, and as the minutes pass, Josue (or Nathaniel, I'm not sure) walks up to me with his arms stretched toward me. I pick him up and it feels perfect. The other twin soon follows (they are rarely without each other) and he gets the other arm. They nuzzle their heads into my neck and laugh. When I try to put the two of them down, they both arch their backs and cry. 

The brothers are here at the request of their aunt. Their mother is only 18 and already has 6 children. With a new baby girl (right after the triplets), there were simply too many mouths to feed. Also, there is some sort of stigma in Ecuador against multiple births (I'm not exactly clear on this). So, Josue and Nathaniel find their way into my arms. 

And this is a conflict I go through every day at Casa de Fe. How much compassion and love can I show these kids? This seems like a strange dilemma--of course I should give them all the attention and love that they need. But I'm not here forever. I'm not even here for a long period of time. How cruel would it be to shower these kids with love and personal attention like they've never had before and then leave? Take it away? Abandon them once more? Sometimes, I decide that having this once is better than never experiencing it at all. But sometimes, I put the kids down and let them cry. 

I know that in a month, I'm going to have a terrible time leaving Casa de Fe, Josue and Nathaniel. I hope they find good homes or that they get to stay in this one as long as they need.